


Model Behaviour

by Rozilla



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Life Drawing, Nude Modeling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3321815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozilla/pseuds/Rozilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane was hoping it wouldn't be weird to use life drawing as foreplay. It wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Model Behaviour

**Author's Note:**

> I'm an artist, can you tell?   
> I find Life Drawing very difficult because of this scenario. Sorry.

'Okay, it's gonna sound like an obvious question,' Thor mounted the stairs behind her, narrowly avoiding an old black bike parked precariously by the door 'but are you and your flat-mate artists?'

'Um... kinda, what gave it away?' Jane unlocked the front door and lead them in down the narrow hallway, smiling broadly when she saw him take off his boots by the door. Clearly he'd been raised right.

'Well... the paint job on the front of the house,' Thor chuckled 'it's that Van Gogh painting... uh...'

' _Starry Night_ ,' Jane comfirmed 'our landlord gave it to us for three hundred a month if we 'pretty it up a bit', so... me and Darcy did that outside, with some help.'

'Darcy?'

'Room- sorry- _flat_ mate,' Jane corrected herself 'still learning to assimilate proper English.'

'I don't know,' Thor shrugged 'I quite like American accents.'

'You're just saying that to flatter me.'

'Well, _yes_ , I am trying to flatter you, but I do like American accents.'

She blushed despite herself, he seemed  _way_ too good to be true.

'You want coffee? Tea?'

'Tea'd be great,' he nodded to the living room 'can I...?'

'Sure! Take a seat... if you can find one.'

Thor was negotiating a pile of anatomy books and used sketchbooks on the sofa, catching a pouch full of well worn paintbrushes before they upended onto the floor. When he took the mug he turned to the coffee table and saw it was covered in tiles used for holding acrylics and unwashed palettes.

'Hang on,' Jane handed both mugs to him and made a space, shifting a pile onto the floor next to the empty unused fireplace (it contained the one unsuccessful attempt Darcy made at being a sculptor). 'This place is a disaster, I'm so sorry,' she laughed 'we're both kinda trying to make money off of our work and it's getting away from us a little.'

'No! It's fine, the place is... creative!' Thor nodded, clearly repressing more laughing.

'Creative,' Jane repeated.

'Yup,' Thor scratched his chin 'very... creative.'

They were both nodding for a moment before they settled into a comfortable kind of awkward that had Thor looking around at the room. The sitting room was large and wide with a wide front window looking out across the road to houses worth several million. A few people in the place opposite visibly pulled faces when they glanced at the house. 

'How did your neighbours take the paint-job?'

'They were not pleased, but Erik, the landlord, is this delightful old Swedish eccentric and he was fine with it. We worked with the metal work sculptor upstairs and the old hippy who lives below us and got it down in a coupla days. It made the second page of the  _Metro_ the month before last, it's framed on the mantle piece.'

'Your landlord must be loaded if he can afford to rent out a North London house to starving artists.'

'He is, though I'm not even sure what he does, he could be a drug baron for all we know.'

'Oh well, he's to Erik!' Thor raised his mug.

'Cheers!' 

They clinked mugs and drank, Thor still scanning the artist's debris that littered the place- easels with half-finished work, paper affixed to the wall with masking tape, the traditional bookshelves on bricks and planks of wood (painted green naturally) with one rescued sofa in the middle, covered in a fluffy throw. Thor picked up a cushion with a screen print of a deer in a straw hat on it. 

'Darcy's idea, we sold about ten of them in Spitalfields.'

'Hipsters?'

'Hey!' Jane pointed an accusing finger 'Don't knock it okay? They're our bread and butter, we have no idea what we'll do when their trust funds run out.'

Thor laughed 'Fair enough.'

_God he's so pretty,_ Jane thought, looking into his face before turning away to take a sip of coffee  _like, how did I pick this guy up?! He's so gorgeous I might actually cry._

Tall, broad, long blonde hair, beard and a tight printed t-shirt. He was probably not her type, if only because she didn't think her type existed outside her  _private_ sketchbook. He was nice to, intelligent, quick witted and a proper gentleman.

There had to be something wrong with him. Maybe he had a weird fetish? Or a string of gambling debts? Or a secret past as a professional killer?

'Um...' she began, tapping her mug in thought 'do you mind if I... uh... draw you?'

Thor looked puzzled for a moment, but smiled even wider 'Sure.'

'Seriously? It's not compulsory, I won't hold it against you if you say no, I barely know you and we've only been out once...'

'It's fine, I've never been a model before.'

'Really?' Jane sounded surprised 'Like... never?'

'No.'

She had gone bright red, she could feel it. 

'Cool... uh... if you do feel uncomfortable just tell me.'

She got up and placed her mug on the mantle-piece, hurrying over to an easel set up near a window and decide which medium to use.

'Make yourself comfy... can you sit with your back towards the opposite wall so you're facing me, like you're lounging- that's great!'

She looked at him quizzically for a moment before going to a tall shelving unit of different papers types and selecting a large sheet of brown craft paper and some masking tape to affix it to the easel. 'Okay, I'm gonna go with my pencils... nice and easy... can you see them? They're in a large busted Snoopy mug.'

'Like that one on the mantle-piece?' He pointed 'Shall I pass 'em over?'

'No, it's cool! I'll get 'em,' Jane was trying to channel her nerves into moving and working, as per usual, not really taking into account what she was actually asking him 'you stay there.'

'Alright,' he relaxed back with an arm up to cushion his head 'this good?'

'That's great,' she pulled up an old bar stool and sat down at her easel, rolling her shoulders and looking at him 'okay... need to adjust the paper- though it might look good in portrait...'

He watched her, the way rolled the pencil in her fingers, pressed her lips, glanced from him to the paper, hummed and then selected a pencil to start drawing. He glanced just behind her to where the actual picture was reflected in the window behind her and saw she started with simple shapes; the sofa, the mantle-piece, the floor, the back wall, before then outlining his own figure. She worked quite quickly, completely lost in the process of building from lines, to the dark shadows, the adding only the red of his shirt, the grey of his t-shirt, some details of his face and some of the contours of his body. It was pretty fascinating to watch.

'This is going to be kinda rough,' she said, after adding a few highlights in a white pencil 'I might try and work on it later, turn it into a painting or maybe ink and wash...'

He nodded, half-listening, half-still watching her quickly fill in a few more little details, like the pile of books by the sofa or the steam coming from the mug in his hand. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, but it must have been half an hour when she stopped and stood up to take a step back.

'Hmm,' she looked at it, turning her head and frowning 'God, wish I could get the eyes level.'

She came to a decision and took it down, carefully setting it aside, and putting another sheet up 'Do you mind sitting up?' 

'Not at all,' he shifted round.

'Right... okay,' she picked up the board from the easel and brought it round to hold up on her lap 'feel free to move around on the sofa, I like a moving target.'

He did, still watching her watching him, occasionally shifting in his seat. 

'Can I see?' He asked after a while.

'Uh, sure,' she handed him her first drawing.

'Wow... it's... gorgeous!'

'Well I have great subject matter,' she hoped it was a flirty tone rather than a creepy one.

'I can never draw like this,' he marvelled at how much it looked like him, but he rather liked the illustrative quality to it, the quickness and spontaneity of the black lines, the contrast with the few blocks of colour and the lovely glare of the white. His knowledge of art wasn't exactly extensive, but he definitely liked this.

He looked pretty good to.

_Take off your shirt please,_ the words died on Jane lips, because holy god she was not going to ask him that. Even if it was purely for artistic purposes. She quickly drew him looking at the paper.

'You're really talented,' he said, thoughtfully.

'Thanks,' she replied, putting the pencil on her lap to flex her hand 'that's sweet.'

'You are,' he gently handed the drawing back to her 'I love how focused you get.'

'Really?'

_Were you created in a lab? That's the only sensible conclusion. Unless you're really a douche-bag waiting for the right moment._

'Hmm,' he propped up his arm and looked at her again 'I could watch you for hours.'

'You'd get bored eventually,' she chuckled.

'Doubt it.'

The moment hung heavy between them, Jane's request still battling with her awkward sense of social etiquette. He seemed to decide for her, taking off his shirt first, then, still not taking his eyes off her, his t-shirt.

_Well, so that happened._

Jane just stared for a moment at the magnificence that now sprawled back on the sofa, looking like one of the models in her anatomy books- every muscle group defined and just itching to be drawn. Was it wrong that her first thought was _I could use the white pencil to bring out the light shining off his abs._ Probably, but she got down off the stool and held up a finger 'Wait there,' she said, dashing off to her bedroom, where her ancient double bed and it's creaky mattress stood amongst a sea of more books, a PC on it's rickety desk, a WACOM tablet and a pop-up wardrobe surrounded by clean laundry she still hadn't put away. reached under the bed for the p _rivate_ sketchbook and took it back with her into the living room, where Thor still lay like a sexier version of an anatomy study.

She'd never be able to do life drawing again, not as a model or a student- this was putting ideas in her head. Unprofessional ones. She took up her station again, settling in and glancing at him before beginning to sketch. She liked the look in his eye, she wished she could do it justice, but she had a feeling she ought to hurry things along.

'Gonna lose the pants?' She asked, before her brain engaged her common sense.

'If you want.'

She nodded, still not believing her luck, as he stood to remove his jeans.

 _Rodin would kill to carve that ass,_ she thought, _hell, I feel I owe karma big for this._

'Stay there,' she asked, as he kicked his jeans and underwear away 'just a minute.'

She was not going to let this ass-shot pass her by, trying not to giggle when she shaded the area just beneath the cheeks. It wasn't funny, it was heady, it was... so hot she was squirming in her seat. It reminded her of when she first saw _The Kiss_ and _The Eternal Idol_. She didn't think she'd been so turned on in her whole life. Till now.

_Darcy was with her boyfriend in South Bank, so hopefully she wouldn't make a surprise appearance._

She picked out the contours of his back, the way his neck curved forward, his head just tilted back.

'Can you... turn around?'

He did.

_OOOOOOoooohhhhh mmmyyyyy gooooodddd._

She had to take a deep breath and keep her eyes at waist level, except that now it was bobbing just at the bottom of her field of vision and _everyone who sees this is going to think I'm flattering him._

Her hand was shaking a little, she could feel it, but managed to sketch out the chest, the arms, the collarbone, the shoulders...

'Hey,' his voice was low, 'you nearly finished?'

She picked out a few more lines, just at the waist, the V of his hips ( _he works out, oh Jesus kill me, please don't turn out to be a douche-bag_ ) and finally, carefully, set her sketchbook behind her on the barstool.

'Done,' she declared, finally managing to meet his eyes and walk, slowly towards him. Glancing down, she noticed that, as far as she could tell, he was clearly very okay with the whole thing.


End file.
